


Phenomenally Stupid

by LeilaSecretSmith (orphan_account)



Series: Accidentally on Purpose in Love [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Kraglin is literally the sweetest, Marriage Proposal, Stupid decisions, Surprise pregnancy, Vanessa likes to hide a little too much, Yondu is pissed for about five seconds, have a little faith honey, then he's v proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: Six years after "There's Hope for You Yet," Vanessa discovers she's pregnant and makes a phenomenally stupid decision. Surprisingly, things work out.





	Phenomenally Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Set six years after "There's Hope for You Yet" and six years before Guardians of the Galaxy. Kraglin is 36, Nessa is 31, and Peter is 28. Yondu is ageless but also basically a grandpa.

My hands shake as I back up from the scanner that sits so innocently on the kitchen counter. The scanner with _my_ blood in it, the scanner that just ripped my world to shreds with a single damning word. My back hits the wall. I slide to the ground and curl up with my knees to my chest.

I can’t cry. I’m too numb, too shocked to cry.

 _I can’t tell him,_ I think, staring vacantly down at the tile floor. _I can’t ask him to choose._

Deeper, far deeper, sitting like a rock in my soul, is the real reason.

_I can’t take him not choosing me._

We’ve had six years of quiet, unofficial bliss together. Six long, wonderful years. I never said anything, never pushed for permanence even though I _ached_ for it. Now it’s all going to end, and I’m not ready. I knew it would come, but I’m _not ready_.

The comm in my pocket buzzes. Slowly, I pull it out, terrified that it’s a message from Kraglin. It’s not. It’s from my friend in the university administration office. I shut my eyes and exhale in relief before opening the message.

‘ _Thought you might want this! I know you wanted to get some experience in pathology,’_ it reads. Attached is an application for a research position on an isolated moon—a research position for a _single scientist_ working alone.

My heart slams into my ribs. _Run,_ the panicked majority of me screams. _Hide!_

 _Hide_ , I agree, hauling myself to my feet. It’s phenomenally stupid. It doesn’t solve the problem at all. But I don’t think about the consequences as I frantically fill out and submit the form.

I just want to hide.

* * *

 

The greenhouse is hot and humid, smelling of fresh soil and decomposing leaves. It’s early morning, well before the heat of the twin suns can make the temperature truly dangerous, but I’ve already sweated through my jumpsuit. With an irritated chuff, I shrug the top off, tying the sleeves over my hips and snug beneath my growing belly.

It’s been four months since I last saw my sort-of (former?) boyfriend in person, and three months since I hid from him. Three months since I’ve talked to anyone but the twins and my friend in administration. I’ve reached an odd equilibrium between relaxed (because Kraglin hasn’t tracked me down yet) and tense (because _Kraglin hasn’t tracked me down yet.)_

For the most part I try not to think about it, focusing instead on the plant diseases I’m working on.

“Sorry, kiddos,” I apologize to the twins as one of them kicks unhappily. I splay my free hand over the top of the bump, picturing the growing babies within me. My little Prince and Princess. “It’s too hot for you too, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll go inside as soon as I water these suckers.”

WHUD!

Behind me, the door to the greenhouse slams open. I spin around in alarm, my hand flying to the ever-present blaster on my hip. My heart stutters in my chest as I see _him_ , haloed in the light of the rising suns like an avenging angel.

Kraglin stands in the doorway, chest heaving like a bellows, hair in wild disarray. He must have sprinted from the landing pad to the greenhouse.

I choke and back up a step at his angry and hurt expression. Another step back and I bump into the table. Thick stems poke into my back.

There’s nowhere left to hide.

 _I’m not ready,_ I think desperately as his eyes slide down to my midsection, going wide in shock. With the top of my jumpsuit tied around my hips and the tight, sweat-soaked undershirt clinging to my skin, the swell of my stomach is damningly obvious.

 _Please_ , _I’m not ready to lose him._

“Nessa?” he breathes disbelievingly, completely focused on my stomach. There’s a world of hurt and confusion in that single word, and it cuts me right to the core. I shake my head, unable to say anything past the lump in my throat as the first tears start to fall.

“Nessa!”

He’s across the room before I can take so much as a single breath, gathering me into his arms without a moment’s hesitation.

And I’m… confused. I expected the anger and the hurt. I expected yelling and disgust. I expected him to take one look at my swollen belly and head for the hills, never to come back again.

 Instead, he kisses my temple and breathes my name like a prayer, hot breath ghosting over my skin. One of his hands cups the back of my head while the other is pressed tight against my hip.

  “I—I…”  My voice cracks.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” he asks—begs—arms tightening around me.

I suck in a shuddering breath. “You’re a Ravager, Krags,” I whisper, unable to stop my voice from shaking as more tears slip from my eyes. My arms stay limp at my sides. “It’s your _life_. You love being a Ravager, and I—I don’t want to—I won’t make you choose.”

“Nessa.” He’s laughing, but it’s a heartbroken kind of laugh. He tries to tilt my head back, tries to meet my eyes, but I duck and press my forehead to his shoulder. “Nessa, you’re hidin’ from me again.”

I laugh, though it’s more of a sob. Hidden twice over, found twice over. Our eternal game of hunter-and-hunted—except, it’s not going to be eternal, is it?

“Don’t hide from me, darlin’.” He buries his face in my hair, pressing more kisses to the sweat-damp locks. “Please, don’t _ever_ hide from me like this, not again.”

Something in his tone gives me hope, and it hurts so _much_ but I… I can’t resist it. Tentatively, I lock my arms around his waist and breathe in his scent. Gods I missed this.

“Listen to me.” Kraglin leans back, and I allow him to carefully tilt my head until our eyes meet. “I was doin’ some research on Terran culture,” he says softly. “’s why I took leave. And I... I have some’m to ask you.”

I blink in confused surprise, my heart sinking a little in my chest. That’s why he’s here? He wants to ask me questions about Earth? But before I can open my mouth to say anything, he lets go of me and steps back, giving me one of the most intense looks I’ve ever seen.

My mind goes blank when he drops to one knee and pulls a black ring box from his pocket.

“Vanessa,” he says in a husky voice, opening the box to expose a gold ring set with an absurdly large pink diamond. “I’m a selfish man. I’ll always _be_ a selfish man. And I want to know, no matter how far I travel in this here universe, that you’re _mine_. Will you marry me?”

I’ve gone beyond bewildered and straight into shock.

“Yes.”

The word slips from me in a breathless whisper. I’m thrilled and confused and scared and a million other things all at once, all so powerful that I feel like I might black out at any moment. There’s cold metal on my finger and suddenly Kraglin is holding my face between his hands.

“Breathe, baby,” he says, though his voice sounds weirdly distant and tinny. His handsome, concerned face blurs dramatically.

 _Oh right,_ I realize, because my lungs aren’t moving at all. _Breathe._ My chest heaves as I try to take a breath through my paralyzed throat. Gray is starting to encroach on the edges of my vision when Kraglin pounds on my back with one hand.

“Breathe!” he commands in his First Mate voice.

I breathe.

“Shit, darlin’.” Kraglin sighs as I all but collapse against him, bursting into relieved tears. “If I’d known you was gonna pass out from shock I’d’a planned this a little better.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob, burrowing into his chest, “I’m sorry, I—I love you. I dreamed about this, but I never _thought_ —I…”

“My fault, baby,” he soothes, holding me tightly. “I shoulda’ known you’d be so damn _selfless_. Shoulda’ made my intentions clearer from the beginning.”

A watery laugh escapes me. “Yeah, probably.”

Kraglin— _my fiancé_ , now—holds me for a long time as I calm down, and it’s so damn nice that I nearly cry again. I never thought I could have this, especially not with him.

When I’ve been still and silent for a while, he hums and pulls back so that I can see his smile. “So, you gonna introduce us?” he asks, pointedly caressing the sides of my baby bump. My heart leaps into my throat at the eagerness in his eyes.

“Krags,” I say with a grin, giddy at the thought of his impending surprise, “meet your son…” I pause, watching as his whole face lights up before adding “… _and_ your daughter.”

His eyes pop wide, jaw dropping. “My… _twins?_ ”

I laugh as he kneels and lays reverential hands on my belly, pushing my shirt up and out of the way. His skin is warm under my palms as I cover his larger hands with my own. “Yeah, love. Twins run in my family.”

He glances up once before returning his attention to the gentle swell under our hands. “Hey there, babies,” he croons breathlessly _,_ pressing his lips to my skin. “I’m your daddy. We’re gonna meet real soon, I promise.” I hastily wipe at my eyes as he lays two feather-light kisses over my belly—one for each of our children.

Kraglin looks up at me with heat, hands dipping lower, caressing my hips. “You’re so _beautiful_ ,” he murmurs worshipfully.

I snort, but it’s more fond than anything else. “Is now really the time, honey?” I ask. He pauses, expression comically torn, then nods in agreement.

"Listen, darlin'," he sighs, reluctantly getting to his feet. "We've got to talk to the Cap'n. _Both_ of us."

I cringe away from the idea of meeting the gruff Centaurian in person, but he _is_ Kraglin's boss, so this is probably unavoidable. "Alright," I sigh in resignation, pulling my shirt back down. "Fine."

To my surprise and alarm, he retrieves his comm before the last syllable has even passed my lips and dials the captain's personal line.

The captain picks up immediately. "Kraglin," he says tersely.

"Cap'n," my fiancé greets in turn, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You alone?"

There's a pause, then, "Quill's with me."

Kraglin shoots me a questioning glance and I nod wordlessly, recognizing Quill as Peter Quill, Kraglin's sort-of younger brother (not that either would ever admit it).

He squeezes my hand again. "That's fine. I need you to come to these coordinates." The Xandarian pauses, typing away at the comm. " _Just_ you."

There's a brief silence on the other end. "You're close," the captain says at last. "We'll be there in an hour. You in trouble, son?"

Kraglin cracks a smile at that. "Naw, Cap'n. There's... someone you should meet."

A pause, then a grunt, and the line goes dead.

I exhale gustily, sagging over to press my forehead against Kraglin's shoulder. "An hour, huh?" I say, looking down at my dirty, sweaty hands. "I'm gonna need a shower."

I tip my head back up and run a suggestive hand over his arm, smirking. "Come help me?" I pout a little, though I can't quite pull off the expression when he's looking at me so hungrily. "It's just _so hard_ to bend with these two in my—oh!"

Kraglin growls and sweeps me up, cutting my teasing statement short. "Careful, darlin'" he whispers against my lips as I giggle. "Your teasin' just might come back to _bite_ 'cha."

“Oh honey,” I say, matching his tone as I wind my arms around his neck. “I’m _counting_ on it.”

* * *

 

When they arrive an hour later, Kraglin and I are sprawled out on the couch, both freshly washed a sated. I’m on my back, propped up against the arm of the sofa, and Krags is lying on his front with my legs over his shoulders, lavishing attention on my bare stomach. He’s in the middle of telling the babies how we first met when there’s a hard knock on the door.

I stiffen, suddenly and instinctively terrified, but Kraglin is quick to scramble up and press our foreheads together. “You’re fine,” he whispers. “Stay here, I’ll get the door.” I offer a shaky and smile and pull my shirt back down.

He opens the door without ceremony, revealing the grim, blue-skinned man that I remember from the first time Kraglin and I met. A tall, golden-haired human male stands behind him, peering curiously into my temporary home.

 _That must be Peter Quill,_ I think.

“Cap’n,” Kraglin greets calmly, offering a salute.

“Kraglin.” The Centaurian raises an eyebrow as he steps inside. His red eyes unerringly fall on me as Kraglin greets Quill.

It takes about half a second for my mind to decide that _predator_ is the correct label for the captain and react accordingly. I go totally still, flushing crimson as he evaluates me through narrowed eyes that inevitably stop on my stomach—and the hand, complete with engagement ring, that rests lightly over it.

“What the _hell_ , boy,” he exclaims, genuinely taken aback.

“Cap’n,” Kraglin says, nervousness finally creeping into his tone as he returns to my side and lays a hand on my shoulder. “This’s Vanessa. My fiancée.”

“Oh, I recognize you!” Quill says to me as the captain continues to stare in disbelief. “You’re the chick he picked up in that nice bar, aren’t you?”

“Yeeess?” I draw the word out uncertainly. It’s a very vague statement. I’m sure there have been dozens of girls Krag’s picked up in bars.

At the sound of my voice, the captain snaps out of his disbelief. “Outside. _Now_ ,” he growls with a hard look at Kraglin. I glance up at my fiancé in alarm, but he merely squeezes my shoulder reassuringly and leaves, following after the Centaurian.

Quill doesn’t join the two outside, instead strolling over and flopping down in the armchair closest to me. “So!” he says with a bright smile, attempting to distract me with _zero_ subtlety. “You Xandarian?”

Déjà vu. I wonder if he’ll have the same reaction Kraglin did. “No,” I say, still frowning worriedly at the door. “Terran.”

The man’s jaw drops, and I’m very grateful he didn’t have the opportunity to drop _me_ because yes, they did have the same reaction. Maybe it’s a Ravager thing?

“ _Really?_ ” Quill gasps, leaning over to get a closer look at my face. “No way, so am I! How’d you get out here?”

“A very long and complicated series of events,” I say vaguely, “that culminated in me starting space-college at the age of fifteen. It was weird for everyone involved, trust me.”

He seems to sense my unwillingness to talk about it and is tactful enough to change the subject. “So, what is this place anyways?”

I sigh a little at his insistence on distracting me, curling up against the arm of the couch and readjusting to face him. “It’s a plant disease research station,” I say patiently. “I’m doing research on viral pathology.”

Quill gives me a surprisingly shrewd look. “You came out here to hide, didn’t you.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yes, actually. Stupid, I know, but I blame the damn pregnancy hormones.”

He grins a little at that, crossing one leg over the other. “Daddy Krags,” he chuckles, eyes darting briefly to my stomach. “Man, that sounds weird.”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely Kraglin’s brother. “Don’t worry,” I fire back with a smirk. “I’ll make sure that these little monsters call _you_ ‘Uncle Peter.’”

He winces visibly. “Ooh, please don’t.”

“Hah!” I snort, “Well—“

A distinct beeping sound cuts me off. “Oh, shit, the centrifuge!” I gasp, hauling myself off the couch in record time. Peter follows me as I sprint into the lab attached to my living quarters, though he stops in the doorway as I disappear into the confusing maze of equipment.

“Shit shit _shit_ ,” I chant as the centrifuge beeps again, now accompanied by a high-pitched whining sound. “Don’t you fuckin’ do it.” My hands fly over the interface, pulling up lines of code and mechanical readouts. “I am _not_ losing three months of work because you decided to throw a hissy fit again!”

The beeping stops after a few nerve-wracking minutes and I sigh in relief. With one hand braced against the counter, I massage my belly, where the twins are once more kicking unhappily. “Sorry, kiddos,” I apologize. “Mommy almost lost all her samples. _Again_.”

“You alright in there?” Quill calls. The top of his head is barely visible over the bulky spectrophotometer as he strains to see me.

“It’s fine,” I yell back, carefully weaving my way back to the door. Bare feet in a lab—not the best idea. “My centrifuge hates me, so I—oh.”

Kraglin and the Captain are standing behind Quill—both unharmed, thank god. Disconcertingly, all three Ravagers are staring at me with varying levels of concern. I look to Kraglin automatically.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, nervously fingering my engagement ring, “I handled it.”

He looks as me silently for a long moment, searching my face, then relaxes. “Well… good. Listen, darlin’, the Cap’n—“

“I wan’ta speak with you, little miss,” the Centaurian interrupts. “Alone.”

My stomach drops. “Uhh,” I croak, looking at him in alarm.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Right,” I squeak. I mean, I don’t _think_ he’s going to kill me, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit down and have a face-to-face conversation with the man. “Sure, ok, let’s… talk.”

Kraglin steers me back into the living room, trying to convey as much support as he can through the hands on my shoulders.

It doesn’t work.

I ease down into the armchair, wincing as one of the twins decides my kidney makes a good punching bag.

“You’ll be fine,” Kraglin murmurs, low enough that only I can hear as he leans down and kisses my temple.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter back. “He already likes _you_.”

He snorts and straightens back up. “C’mon, Quill, let’s go check on the ships.”

Quill pouts but follows without protesting, leaving me and the captain to stare at each other in tense silence. My hands are clasped together in my lap so tightly that I can feel each trembling tendon. It takes everything I have, but I manage to meet his eyes without crying or throwing up—which is especially impressive considering the sheer intensity of his stare.

Not that it’s hostile. Quite to the contrary, it’s remarkably calm and neutral. Unnerving, but neutral.

“You tried to hide from’m,” he says at last. His tone isn’t accusatory, but the implication of wrongdoing is there.

“Yeah,” I agree, because I did. I don’t try to defend myself.

“You gonna do that a lot?”

“Not anymore.”

Another long, measured look. “’Cause he’s marryin’ you?”

“Because he didn’t run away.”

“Hmm.”

I fidget uncomfortably as he goes silent again.

“You know what? I like you.”

My head snaps up in shock. I gape at him, taking in the wide, crooked grin and satisfied eyes. “But I didn’t—“

“—do anythin’?” he finishes for me, raising an eyebrow and settling back against the couch. “Kraglin’s told me enough t’know that you’d rather be six star systems away’n talkin’ to me right now. Yet here y’are, talkin’ to me alone. Impressive, for a soft lil’civilian like you.”

“Oh,” I say articulately. Well, it is pretty impressive. I mean, _I’m_ impressed with myself at least.

The captain laughs, and it’s a surprisingly nice sound. “So,” he drawls, sprawling further into the cushions. “You’re the one my first mate’s been runnin’ off to all the time, eh?”

“Yeah,” I agree, nodding slowly.

“Hmm. Smart boy. Didn’ think he had it in‘m t’keep some’m this big from me.” He whistles abruptly, startling me, and yells “y’all can stop eavesdroppin’ now.”

The front door slowly opens, and in comes a sheepish Kraglin and a completely unapologetic Quill. The captain stands as Quill bounces over and slaps me on the shoulder.

“I knew you could do it! Welcome to the family,” he crows, grinning brightly.

“Thanks?” I say in bewilderment, shooting Kraglin a look. He grimaces at me as the captain slaps him on the back.

“You can have’m for three days, girly,” the Centaurian says, pointing a finger in my face before turning back to his first mate. “We’ll work some’m out when y’get back. C’mon, Quill.”

I can’t do anything but stare in mild disbelief as Quill offers me an enthusiastic thumbs-up and another grin, then spins around and follows the older Ravager out the door.

 The house is enveloped in a rather anticlimactic silence once they’ve gone.

“That was… surreal,” I decide, frowning down at my engagement ring. “I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”

The lips that crash enthusiastically down onto mine are _very_ real, though, so I push the bizarre events of the day aside in favor of kissing my husband-to-be.

“I knew you’d win him over,” Kraglin says breathlessly, pressing his forehead to mine when we come up for air. “My brave, beautiful girl. I _knew_ you’d do it.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us did,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “But please, let’s never do that again.”


End file.
